


What Is Ours

by ForeverChasingDreams



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Non-Evil Management, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverChasingDreams/pseuds/ForeverChasingDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jay joins the One Direction security team, he doesn't expect to even meet the boys face-to-face, let alone be privy to a secret as large as this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Ours

**Author's Note:**

> Because it’s nearly one o'clock in the morning and I’m having some serious Larry Stylinson feels after being sucked into Larry videos on YouTube that have made me laugh, cry, and smile at a love that may be real or may not, but is beautiful nonetheless. I don’t know if I ship Larry – to be honest, I think they should be left alone – and I write them as characters, not people, so it’s not supposed to be a reflection of how I think they are in reality.  
> I have absolutely no idea how the One Direction security works so I don't claim that this is in anyway accurate.  
> This is possibly the shortest thing I have written in forever and I apologise for that!

 

He’s more than a little bit certain that this will be the hardest job he’s had in a while by the end of the first day. Maybe it’s the serious, hard look that Paul, his new boss, gives him; assessing and severe. He’s signed the contract, written his name on confidentiality report after report, basically given his life away for the next few months – and he has yet to meet the boys who will be his responsibility.

“You’ll be doing stage stuff for a while,” Paul tells him briefly. “The others will brief you properly. Just . . .” he hesitates, “they’ll try and get away with shit: getting too close to fans, jumping all over you, things like that. Don’t take it, they’re idiot kids.”

He nods. It doesn’t sound too hard, what he’s heard so far. Keep an eye out for militant fans, stop the boys doing anything stupid, be ready with water or to respond to problems in the crowds that the boys spot, etc. But he has dread deep in his gut, and it might be to do with the squeal his daughter – and teenage son, for fuck’s sake – let out when he told them he was to be working with the world’s most famous and successful boy band.

It’s a tall title. He’s a little scared.

 ***

“You’ll be fine,” another security guy tells him with a sympathetic grin. “It’s easy to get the hang of.”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“You met them yet?”

“Nah,” he answers, a bit surprised. “Have you?”

In a situation like this, with dozens of workers and guys surrounding the band on all sides, he hasn’t expected to have any close contact with them other than in terms of protection. He gathers it’s Paul’s job to liaise with the boys – he and the others are just extra muscle. Which is good, because he works bloody hard for these biceps and he doesn’t like to think of them going to waste.

“Yeah,” the guy says with a grin. “You will too, they’re annoying like that.”

He stares, a little lost now. He doesn’t know quite what to say but is saved by the start of the concert, and his attention is immediately grabbed by the cries and screams of the girls behind him.

Jesus holy Christ, this is pure hysteria and his main thought is that thank fuck the money is good because he’s going to need a hearing aid after this.

 ***

“New, yeah?” Liam yells at him, sitting on the stage right beside him halfway through the concert. The Irish one is talking somewhere behind them, and he only knows Liam’s name because his daughter is beyond obsessed with him. The guy’s fit, yeah, he can appreciate that objectively, but he doesn’t quite get the interest in a guy she’s likely never going to meet.

“Yeah,” is all he says, keeping half an eye on Liam and half on the fans, waving phones in their faces and screaming. He’s seen a phone chucked already, and he’s been warned about it, watching for any sudden movements.

“I’m Liam,” the guy says with a cheeky smile. “You’ve replaced Alex, yeah?”

He shrugs hopelessly. “Not sure mate,” he says, honestly. He doesn’t really care at all, but maybe Liam knew the Alex guy well or something. He doesn’t quite get the interest.

“Got a name?” Liam jokes, seemingly uncaring that he’s halfway through a sold out concert for thousands of people and he’s chatting away to a random security guy.

“Jay.”

Liam snorts. “No way, mate,” he says loudly. “That’s Louis’ mum’s name, that’s sick, he’ll love this.”

Jay shakes his head, confused and wary but figuring he’s getting paid for this, so he’s not going to put up a fuss about a pop star willingly chatting to him.

“Louis, mate!” Liam yells over his shoulder, and one of the other band members jogs over, brown hair loose and messy. He plops himself down next to Liam, flopping onto his back initially before sitting up and waving to the nearby fans and pulling a stupid face while a few take photos.

“What’s up?” he checks with Liam, then notices Jay. “Hey, mate, I’m Louis. New, yeah?”

“Name’s Jay,” Liam tells him, and there’s surprised laughter and Louis claps him on the back.

“What’s it short for?” he asks curiously. “My mum’s Johanna, technically.”

Jay isn’t even pretending to be cool anymore. The two of them are mental. He wonders if he should point out the screaming fans and suggest they pay some attention to their concert, but none of the other stage techs or security guys are worrying, so he lets it go. “Short for Jacob,” he answers, and both of them nod.

“Think it’s a sign,” Louis says dramatically, and makes to fling himself off the stage. Jay makes an aborted movement to stop him, and the lad laughs. “Wouldn’t dare,” he promises, and Jay is getting to know enough about their characters that he reckons it’s a lie.

“Leave the poor guy alone, Lou,” Liam says, rolling his eyes. “Go rescue your idiot, he’s about to kill himself near that fire.”

Louis jerks his head round and barks a laugh, climbing to his feet. “Twat,” he says fondly, and Jay doesn’t know if he’s speaking to Liam or whoever else they were talking about.

“You’ll get used to it,” Liam says to Jay cryptically, before belting into song. Jay looks at him, then the screaming fans, and thinks to himself, no, I won’t.

 ***

He does, strangely. Screams and cries start to fade in your ears. He controls the crushes and doesn’t get surprised when Harry clings onto his back like a limpet every so often. He passes them water frequently, intercepts a few flying phones, and learns not to be shocked when the entire of One Direction know his name and where he’s from.

“They’re good lads,” Jessi, one of the stage techs, says to him one night.

It’s been two weeks, and he’s spoken to each of the lads individually despite not working with them off stage. “Yeah,” he says, because he’s beginning to get that.

“Nightmares, though,” someone else joins in, and Jay learns that over the next few weeks.

 ***

“Seen Louis or Harry?” Paul is asking backstage, an hour before the concert is due to start. Jay’s on a short break before going out to oversee the arrival of the fans like normal, and shakes his head.

“Gone for a wander?” he asks, and Paul huffs out a breath, a mixture of anxiety and fury on his face.

“Idiots,” is all he says, but even Jay can see the affection there.

“Got a text,” comes a voice from just outside the door, and Niall appears, along with Zayn. “You, like, seriously, don’t want to know what it says but basically they’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Paul grinds out, and Niall belts out a laugh.

“You’re not the one who needs to bleach his brain, mate,” he cackles.

“Least you haven’t walked in on them,” Zayn says.

Jay gets steadily more confused.

 ***

He looks on stage that night. Harry’s eyes are fever bright and Louis has a grin that stretches his cheekbones. They barely touch, don’t do anything obvious, but there’s . . . something there. They’re like magnets, compass needles pulled inexplicably towards the other’s North. They seem to have this knowledge of where the other is, gaze flickering to each other every so often, bodies moving seamlessly around the stage, orbiting each other like planets – but always from a distance.

 _Larry Stylinson 4ever_ , a sign says, and for the first time Jay gets what the phrase means.

 ***

Then someone from the band’s personal security team takes a break, and Jay is suddenly working directly with the lads, accompanying them from hotels to the buses to the venues to interviews . . . everywhere. And they don’t get fed up, don’t ask him to leave for a bit or vent their frustration to him. They grin and laugh and mess around and chat to him about his kids and his home.

And he likes them. He does.

 ***

It also means he sees them when they’re so much more open, and he wonders how on earth he’s never seen the connection between Louis and Harry before. They barely keep their hands off each other backstage and they most certainly don’t try to hide the fact that at the end of the day they retire, not to separate rooms, but into the arms of one another. They’re not sickening or disgusting or over the top, but they are together in ways that Jay struggles to understand even though he’s happily married.

“Made for each other, those two,” Liam remarks one day, and Paul makes an agreeing hum. Jay kind of gets why Paul was so assessing, so hesitant to allow him near the lads at all in the beginning, because this, _this_ , is a big secret, and he feels kind of honoured that he’s been let in.

“They’ll drive me to an early grave,” Paul responds, but he doesn’t sound too upset about it.

 ***

Louis’ fidgeting before a concert one night, and Jay glances at him regularly to check he hasn’t vibrated himself off the sofa. He keeps looking at Harry, who’s being fussed over by Lou in the corner, and Jay wonders if they’ve had a fight or something. But then Harry gives Louis a gentle smile, fond and silly, and it’s as if the tension snaps and the storm breaks.

“Alright, Hazza?” Louis says, just before they go on.

“Course,” Harry replies, and Jay doesn’t miss the quick lacing of the fingers.

 ***

“Why do you hide?” he asks Harry a few days later. They’re at the hotel pool. The other lads are skyping parents or girlfriends or whatever, but Harry had pleaded for some company while he relaxed.

“Hide what?” Harry asks, towel wrapped around his waist. They’re alone. Jay feels safe enough to bring up what seems to be a fairly open secret, but he’s never, not once, heard it actually confirmed to anyone out loud.

“You and Louis,” Jay clarifies. “You don’t . . . You have girlfriends, but you’re together.”

Harry shrugs, smiles at him. There’s no tension there, and Jay thinks suddenly that the fans are wrong. This isn’t some severe management plot, a desperate attempt at control over love.

“It’s ours,” Harry says at last. “It doesn’t need to be more than that.”

 

Jay sees it. He sees it when they’re alone, draped over each other and sharing soft chaste kisses that look comforting more than anything else. He sees the smiles they give each other in interviews, the way they’ll lean towards each other, drawn in by the other’s gravity. He sees the way they trace each other on stage, whisper in the other’s ears.

He sees the love, and he knows a fair few other people do.

But he also knows that what Harry and Louis have is more than just love, and that they don’t need – or want – to give the world what is part of them, what is so intricately written in their souls like the tattoos they cover their arms with. They give a lot, but this, _this,_ is theirs and theirs alone, and it’s beautiful nonetheless.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed. Please do leave comments/kudos, they mean the world to me.


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